


The Most Precious Pauses

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Series: Teen Wolf and Vampires [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Attraction, Backstage, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Canon Related, Charming - Freeform, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Couch Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Drinking & Talking, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Kissing, Interspecies Romance, Invitation, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Attraction, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Romance, Scents & Smells, Smut, Theatre, Vampires, Watching a Play, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: "Their first kiss is like the movement that preceded it, slow and patient and entirely undemanding. Klaus’ mouth is soft and pliant against Stiles’, and his hands come up to grip at his slim hips, squeezing gently.When he moans into his mouth, Stiles swallows it, slips his tongue inside with one velvet stroke, kissing him thoroughly enough to make Klaus whine."_Being alive so long can get tiresome. Klaus, bored of his routine in NOLA, revives an old passion and successfully falls back into a career as a theatre actor. One of his audience members on opening night is so breathtaking, he steals all of Klaus' attention. When Stiles receives a note inviting him back to Klaus' dressing room, he comes to the conclusion that this evening will indeed take an interesting and unexpected turn.
Relationships: Klaus Mikaelson & Stiles Stilinski, Klaus Mikaelson/Stiles Stilinski, Staus - Relationship
Series: Teen Wolf and Vampires [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795606
Comments: 13
Kudos: 148





	The Most Precious Pauses

**Author's Note:**

> I would say this is canon-adjacent. Vampires and werewolves exist and I try to keep everyone's personality traits as in the shows. The play opens in a new venue in Beacon Hills.

Admittedly, Stiles has come to the show expecting to be disappointed. He’s been dragged along by Scott who wanted to test out this new dinner theatre before asking Allison out.  
Being a good friend, Stiles only made Scott suffer _a little_ before giving in.  
Once they get inside and Stiles reads the program, he’s instantly overwhelmed by dismay to discover that not only is he unfamiliar with the play itself, (something about werewolves, a new take on the American werewolf in London, how original!), he also doesn’t know a single actor performing. 

His expectations are appropriately low, considering how discerning his palate is for things beautiful. He just knows what he likes, and so it will hardly be a surprise when it turns out that he won’t enjoy this play. Or so he laments to his best friend.  
Scott insists he’s being pessimistic while Stiles rather likes to think of it as being _realistic._ Semantics, right? Stiles doesn’t want to spoil Scott’s mood, though, especially since he paid for the ticket, so he decides he’s going to be a good sport and give it a shot.  
  
Smoothing down the dark fabric of his shirt as he walks towards the concessions booth, he realizes that he isn’t having the _worst_ time. The venue is gorgeous and being a dinner theatre, they sell booze. Beats playing yet another losing session of whatever Scott has got him playing. (He will also not miss his bestie yelling at him about how awful a gamer he is).  
Granted, the play is far from a classic, and the plot points are nothing to write home about, but the actors and actresses make it bearable. They’re talented enough to bring life to the tedious parts of the script, and Stiles laughs out loud more than once. (Not to mention the beautiful men in it, which, again being a lover of aesthetics, Stiles can truly appreciate). 

He buys himself and Scott some more wine at intermission and settles back in his front row table for the second act. Scott immediately notices his smile and nudges him on the arm.  
“Not horrible, right?” Scott whispers.

Stiles elbows his back. “Yeah, yeah. Not horrible. But you only like it because it's about werewolves.”  
“Funny,” Scott replies, before painting a grin on his face.  
The lights go out and the curtains rise once more. 

Stiles’ next words die on his lips as the spotlight falls on the most handsome man he’s seen in a long while. Okay, where was this guy in act one?!  
He’s definitely young and sexy, adding to that there’s something about the chiseled cut of his lightly bearded jaw and the intensity of his murky eyes that sends his heart tripping recklessly.  
Then his character begins to monologue and Stiles is _ruined._

A fact about Stiles, lesser known to his friends as it’s not exactly something one brings up, is that he can really appreciate an English accent… it’s almost a kink. This man’s voice is all London: that crisp, cut-glass sound that Stiles can’t get enough of. His voice lilts sweetly around the word “darling” and Stiles’ mind takes the memory like an audio clip.  
Cuts it. Rewinds it. Runs it back.  
_Darling. Darling. Darling._

He’s staring directly at him to boot (which is, in his defense, entirely appropriate considering that he is a performer and Stiles is a member of the audience). Still, Stiles feels a little hazy under his enchanting attentions. Partly from the wine and partly from something else altogether. Stiles realizes after some minutes that this man is focused _only on him_.  
Sitting in the front row, he’s illuminated by the overflow of stage lights. In theory, he’s able to notice most of his body. He should be aware that he’s staring, and he _should have_ looked away by now, but the man hasn’t. 

Stiles feels like a butterfly pinned to a display board, helpless and exposed under the weight of his gorgeous gaze. He holds its probing focus on him for nearly half of his monologue. When he finally looks away to address another character, Stiles is both relieved _and disappointed_. 

The way he _keeps studying_ Stiles, though, stealing glances whenever he can throughout the whole show makes Stiles’ heart beat a little faster every time their eyes lock. When the play is finished and the cast comes out to take their final bows, Stiles claps for him the loudest out of anyone. The man looks directly at him, this rakish grin on his face that makes him look both older and impossibly more attractive. And then he _winks._

Stiles gets embarrassingly hot in the face and Scott nearly shoves him off of his seat in his efforts to get his attention, whispering furiously, “Did you see that? Oh my God, did you _see_ that? I think he likes you! We have to stay to see if you can talk to him!” 

Stiles licks his parched lips, his throat having suddenly tightened. “Well,” he hedges. “I suppose we could stay a little longer.”  
The stage lights dim and the house lights go up. Everyone else gets up from their seats, but Stiles and Scott wait around for a while, unsure exactly of who they’re meant to ask about going backstage, or if that thing is even allowed in this particular theatre. 

Stiles excuses himself to the washroom trying to ward off a panic attack, and, once inside, he stops in front of the mirror and sighs. Okay, yeah, he’s good looking. Sure, he’s no Derek Hale… but he can hold his own.  
And yet something nags at him. Stiles can’t help but think that maybe he’s made the whole thing up in his mind, made it out to be more than it was. 

He worries, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and has just about convinced himself of what a stupid idea this entire thing was. When he exits the washroom, he nearly collides head-on with one of the theatre ushers.   
“Excuse me. Your friend said you had gone to the washroom. Please.”

The other woman is scarlet as she hands Stiles a small note. It’s a piece of paper torn off of one of the programs, folded crisply into thirds, and it smells like an expensive men’s cologne.  
He stares at it for a moment, bewildered. 

“From Mister Mikaelson,” the usher says, and then turns on her heel and leaves. Leaves Stiles to stew in his confusion with only this little note for company. He swallows thickly and, feeling childish for this rush of heat spiraling through him, unfolds the heavy stock paper. 

_I apologize, but I have a bit of a staring problem when it comes to extremely attractive men. Would you be so kind as to meet me in my dressing room for drinks? Xoxo Klaus M._

He has to read it another four times before the words make sense and then he rushes over to Scott, waving it in his face. Scott scans the paper briefly before picking his jaw up off the floor. His dark eyes are laughing.  
“Oh shit dude, I _totally_ called it! Hey, listen, go backstage or whatever and have a good time. I’ll wait in the lobby or if I get kicked out, see you back at the car.”  
“Promise?”  
“Yeah. You think I would let you just go gallivanting off with some strange man without backup?” 

Now Stiles is the one to chortle. “All right, all right,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender as he takes off in the stage doors' direction. When will this ever happen again, he thinks? And it’s not like men have been beating down his door of late.  
With every step he advances his chest feels tighter. This is a lot more excitement than he had been initially expecting from the evening. 

Stiles meanders backstage, trying not to look as eager as he feels. Half-expecting to get stopped by security, he makes it towards the dressing rooms without a hitch.  
The rooms all have names painted across them in swirling, cursive letters. He takes a good minute to wander about before finally finding a pale blue door, the name _Klaus Mikaelson_ painted across it in gold. 

Stiles knocks.  
“Come in!” That voice that he so enjoys calls him inside, and he’s helpless but to obey. 

“Hi!” Stiles exclaims as he enters.   
Klaus' face breaks out in a sexy simper. “There you are. I wasn’t sure if you’d come!” 

Klaus all but leaps from the sofa to his feet, beaming as he takes his hands delicately in his. “Do you have a name, love? I can’t just keep calling you ‘hot guy’ in my head, no matter how fitting it may be.”   
_Love._ Heaven help him. Stiles grins back at him, utterly charmed. “It’s Stiles.”  
He’s like a puppy with his seemingly boundless excitement and energy.

 _“Stiles,”_ Klaus murmurs, as though tasting the name on his tongue, and Stiles melts to hear his name in his accent. “What a lovely name. I’m Klaus. Niklaus for my many relatives back home in New Orleans. Klaus for friends.”  
“Klaus,” Stiles repeats with a small laugh. “It was on your note, and on your door. Your name I mean.”

Christ Almighty Stiles realizes he’s babbling!  
“Oh.” Klaus colors slightly, a pink flush suffusing his face. 

He is gorgeous, truly.  
“Right. I knew that. Sorry.” 

Klaus laughs again and it’s so light it’s like getting caught in a summer breeze. He tilts his tawny head and those sky eyes bore into Stiles, as deeply as when he was onstage, (if not more). There’s a strange softness in them, as if he’s just as smitten as Stiles is with him. 

“Let’s have a drink, shall we?” He says, turning around to search through one of his many cabinets. Stiles rubs the back of his head, feeling very _normal_ compared to these debonair, almost aristocratic man.  
“That _is_ what you came for, right?” The smirk promises more- if Stiles desires it. “I think I have a bottle of red somewhere— ah!”  
Klaus pulls a bottle down from the shelf, along with a pair of wine glasses. Stiles’ eyes can’t stop themselves from memorizing his every twitch. Klaus’ feline grace as his body moves freely over the space is something that should be immortalized. (Not to mention the perfection of what his clothes are hugging- it hitches Stiles’ breath).

“What don’t you have in here?” Stiles quips. A quick scan of the room reveals numerous toiletries, changes of clothes, and lots of liquor bottles.

Klaus winks again and it's an even more devastating punch than before. His voice is deep and husky when he says, “It’s going to be a long run. I have to be comfortable as I'll spend most of my time in this theatre. A man needs his trinkets, darling.”  
_Darling._ Stiles just about dies. 

“Come sit on the couch, love. Let’s get to know each other.” 

And they do, talking and laughing for probably longer than they should, each story shared bringing them closer and closer on the couch until they’re pressed up against each other, Stiles’ whole right side rests plastered against Klaus’ left.   
“So let me get this straight. You’re a vampire hybrid who has reprised an old career out of boredom. Who now plays a werewolf and decided to do this show in a town in California known for supernatural phenomena?”  
  
Klaus throws his head back, looking wickedly exquisite. “Yes, that’s right. We’re doing this play in places where people know to appreciate… its themes. What better place than Beacon Hills, home to many interesting specimens…”  
They’re close enough to share breath, two adoring faces turned towards one another.The wine glasses were carefully positioned, and at this point -forgotten- on the floor long ago.  
“Speaking of interesting specimens…” Klaus reaches tentatively, and when Stiles doesn’t protest, he brushes his thumb over the thick of his bottom lip, his pupils blown wide and dark. 

“You are _so_ gorgeous, love,” he whispers, low and secret, like he’s this hidden treasure he’s found and Klaus doesn’t want anyone else to know about. He can’t take his eyes off of the way his cheeks dimple… and those adorable moles…  
“You’re not so bad, yourself.” It comes out more broken than what Stiles intended. Klaus’ answering smile could make the sun seem dim by comparison.   
And that is it. Stiles is gone for him.

Their first kiss is like the movement that preceded it, slow and patient and entirely undemanding. Klaus’ mouth is soft and pliant against Stiles’, and his hands come up to grip at his slim hips, squeezing gently.  
When he moans into his mouth, Stiles swallows it, slips his tongue inside with one velvet stroke, kissing him thoroughly enough to make Klaus whine. 

There is a deeper exploration of their cavities, which sends hot prickles up and down Stiles’ spine. He dares to progress- his hands slide up under Klaus’ shirt, feeling the hard lines of muscle there. Klaus radiates heat, but not as much as Stiles. If lust were a fever Stiles would have to be thrown into a vat of ice. 

“Is this okay?” Stiles asks, breathless. The slick to his lips glistens in the low light and Klaus thinks it’s like kissing sugared candies on a warm day, this plump pink mouth pure temptation.

Klaus nods consent and glides down to Stiles’ thigh. The caress is a drag of want that sears his skin and in reflex parts his legs.   
“What about this?” Klaus breathes, a smirk playing his lips. “Is this all right?” He ghosts over Stiles’ clothed cock with feather-light dabs.

Pleasure rocks him, and Christ help him Stiles wants to give himself over to this man completely. So doesn’t resist- would never. They cling to one another once more, smiles vanishing, wiped away by pure desire.  
Klaus’ lips move down his neck, sucking a light mark into the pulse point and making Stiles moan. His dusting of beard is just the right side of tantalizing as it tickles his sensitive skin. 

“Touch me,” Stiles murmurs, and Klaus doesn’t waver- his fingers climb up, rucking the hem of his shirt up so he can test the button on his jeans with ease.  
“Oh Stiles…”  
This close, Klaus’ smell is intoxicating. Masculine and heady, like the scent of the cologne was on the note earlier but underlined with musk.

His fingers trace along the zipper seam and Stiles stiffens- under the seam and also his entire frame. “Oh holy god…”  
“Naughty boy,” Klaus chides, grinning into him, his intent as magnetic as his eyes. The zipper comes undone with practiced ease. “So hard for me already.”  
_How could he not be?!_

The tips of his ears feel hot with his blush, but Stiles grinds back into his hand, anyway.   
“I…I can’t help it,” he stutters. And honestly he cannot, not when his essence is all around, teasing his nostrils, and Klaus touches him like that.  
  
“Could I,” Klaus’ knuckles graze over the bulge and Stiles gasps. “Could I suck you off, darling?”   
Stiles almost comes at the suggestion alone, a coil of want undulating in his gut.   
It’s the word choice as well… _suck you off._ Such glorious filth from such a pristine mouth.  
_Yes,”_ He sighs, “Anything you want!” 

Klaus is done undoing his pants, pushing them down his legs at record speed, spreading his thighs apart. He guides him back down into the couch cushions with a delicacy awarded to the finest object.  
“Be good for me, love, and relax.”

Stiles can see the shift in his eyes- the exact moment he switches from innocent vamp puppy to this hybrid _wolf,_ fully grown and with something predatory in the sharp curve of his smile.  
Hungry. _Ravenous, Like the marvelous creature he is.  
_Klaus’s face lowers down between his legs, licking a long, wet stripe over Stiles’ aching bare sex. Stiles arches up into his mouth with a groan. 

“So _sweet, love,"_ he growls. “You look so perfect like this, darling.” He punctuates every word by sucking on the tip, running his tongue over the slit and making Stiles grab blindly for something to hold on to.  
“I can’t wait to see you cum. You’re going to be gorgeous like that, I can already tell. Trembling and,” he pushes his tongue inside again his just to hear him yelp. “Calling my name.” 

The _sound_ it makes, _God!_ Just the noise of him licking from his most intimate place to his cock is filthy, wet and nearly as obscene as the sounds Stiles emits in return. 

The whole room echoes with it: the slack-jawed slurps Klaus makes as he sucks- lips working the length- swallowing him deep- only to come back up- mouth wide and loose and dripping with saliva and pre-come.   
“So hard for me,” Klaus praises, “such a good little dove.” 

Stiles feels that pressure building in his abdomen, getting stronger with Klaus’ every graze.   
“Are you close, love?” He coos, moving his hand faster and lapping furiously at the crown, pausing only to whisper his encouragement like a prayer.

“Come on, come for me, love. That’s it, that’s it, so close now, give it all to me— ah.”  
“Klaus! Fuck fuck… Klaus!”

Stiles throws his shoulders back, tangling his hands in his hair as his body trembles all over, the wave of his release filling Klaus’ mouth. Klaus closes over him with a pleased hum, swiping his tongue a final time over his tip to make sure he catches it all. 

He pulls back, drawing attention to how it’s pooled, making it a point to show him he’s swallowed it all a second later. “Gone… “ he says proudly, panting, and Stiles can see the sizable bulge in his slacks and the glow to his eyes.  
Klaus rubs a hand sheepishly at the back of his wavy hair, and even through the erotic fog it’s evident where Stiles is looking. And just like that, as if someone flipped a switch, suddenly he’s shy. He stares down at his designer shoes, looking completely horrified at himself.  
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, darling,” he says. “I expect nothing in return, it’s something I just wanted to do for you.” 

Stiles pulls his shirt over his head, leaving himself naked in front of him. He gulps, and his eyes trace the bob of his Adam’s apple down the long line of his throat.  
“I want to,” Stiles says, and means it very much. “You can have me.” 

“I, uh….” Klaus looks around the room, as if he could materialize one. “I don’t have a condom. I wasn’t expecting to…”  
Stiles looks up at him through his umbrella lashes and nips into the corner of his mouth. “You can do me raw. Werewolves don’t carry disease… what about hybrids?”  
“Same.”  
Opening his arms wide in invitation, Stiles shivers in anticipation. “Then it’s settled.”

Well what a surprise he is, Klaus thinks. That’s all he has time to conjure before Klaus is on him, kissing every available inch of his taut body. He takes his cock again and kneads it in his hand, skimming his thumb over the head and watching it harden under his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says for probably the hundredth time that night. Some of Stiles’ disbelief must show on his face, because his expression goes funny and he says, “You don’t even realize how lovely _you_ really are, do you, Klaus?” 

Klaus shakes his head, intoxicated by him. “I’m not going to say you’re perfect.” He’s having a hard time focusing on his words when he’s doing that with his other hand, his fingers sliding easily now inside of Stiles and reaching _so_ deeply.  
“But you’re really close to being perfect, love.” 

And Stiles.is.dead. 

His fingers crook and rub against his prostate, making him tighten up around him. Stiles’ pulse is pounding, feeling the intensity of Klaus’ desire all the way to his toes.  
He could cum a second time just from this, the way his fingers are stretching him open and massaging him right where he needs it.   
“Please,” Stiles gasps, not entirely sure what he’s asking for.

Klaus pulls his fingers out slowly, and Stiles whimpers at the loss. He brings them to his lips, his eyes all intent as he takes them inside his mouth and _sucks._ _“You taste amazing, love. Can’t wait to be inside you.”_

His concentration is briefly scattered. Klaus pulls away with a groan, undoing his pants and removing his shoes. He joins him as soon as he’s naked, Stiles staring down at his cock in shock. It’s almost comically large on his small frame.  
Stiles wants to have it in his mouth. He needs to taste his cum. 

He’s about to suggest it when Klaus turns him around- “Do like this, love,” he says, propping his elbows on the arm of the couch and arching Stiles’s back prettily for his benefit.   
Klaus curses under his breath and Stiles watches him spit into his hand, running it over his gorgeous veiny cock and hissing through his fangs.

One hand gropes at his ass as he lines himself up. He runs the head of over his entrance over and over until Stiles is squirming, pressing back against him.  
“Klaus, PLEASE!”  
He finally takes pity on him and inserts just the head, watching, entranced, as his walls clench and unclench around it.

“Fuck,” he says lowly. “I spent all that time trying to stretch you out and you’re still so t- _tight.”_   
“Please move,” Stiles says, voice strained. He wants to feel him all the way inside, filling him up the way he knows that he can with that huge shaft. “Klaus, please, I want to feel you.” 

“Yes, darling,” Klaus pants now, easing his hips forward and making them both whimper. “I’ll let you feel me.”   
  
_

It seems to take forever for him to fully seat, Stiles’ mind going blank except for the constant feeling of being stretched impossibly further, always taking more of him in.  
There’s a very real possibility that this man is going to fuck him stupid. 

“So tight,” Klaus praises him.  
Jesus Christ!, Klaus keeps making these _sounds,_ these soft little noises of yearning as he fucks him and they are driving Stiles crazy!  
Stiles has never been with someone so vocal before. Normally, the men he’s with are practically silent two pump chumps, but with _every movement_ Klaus makes a noise. A whimper, or a gasp, or a moan, and it’s killing Stiles slowly, hearing him come so undone just from being inside him. 

“Oh sweetheart how can you be so hot, so tight,” Klaus growls, rocking his hips shallowly and brushing against Stiles’s spot so perfectly he gasps. _“Yes,_ darling, be a good boy and take it all for me—” he pulls his hips back and _slams_ forward and Stiles _wails.  
_“That’s it. Just like that, beautiful.” 

Stiles’s perception of the world shrinks to the slow drag of Klaus’s thick cock inside of him, dragging against his insides as he takes his time in taking him apart. Klaus’ ruby mouth hangs open as he rolls his hips again and again, each stroke tunneling deeper.  
Stiles wonders if he’ll be able to walk in the morning. 

“Fuck, turn around for me, darling, I want to look at you.” Klaus pulls out, gripping the base, and Stiles rolls himself over so he’s lying on his back with his legs in the air. 

Klaus situates himself between his creamy thighs, settling so they’re chest to chest and his eyes are locked with Stiles’.  
He presses back inside.  
“Take a deep breath for me, love. I’m going to go faster now.”   
The position is so intimate that it steals Stiles’ air straight from his lungs, as if Klaus could drink it from him. Klaus drops a kiss into Stiles’s hairline, mumbling something in a language not identifiable to Stiles.  
“Perfect,” he whispers, and hits hard enough that Stiles sees fireworks. 

“Please,” Stiles babbles helplessly, touching him where he can reach. “Please, Klaus, fuck me harder.” Maybe it’s the position, but he feels so close again. 

Klaus bends back to take one of his nipples in his mouth, sucking hard, an area he’d ignored earlier. Stiles moans so loudly that he knows someone outside has to have heard. He pinches his other one and ruts into his sex faster, the wet sound his ass makes as he fucks him blind is just lewd. 

Stiles has been working his cock with one hand, the other gripped to Klaus’s back. He’s going to cum again. He can feel it, that curl of heat in his abdomen. He moans, bringing his hands up to clutch desperately at Klaus’ nape as he rocks him through a second orgasm- the hollow of his sternum white with come.  
  
“Christ, just like that,” Klaus says against his lips. “Yes, _yes,_ darling, cum around my cock, that’s it.” 

Klaus grunts, speeding up the pace of his lunges, pounding ruthlessly into his oversensitive shaft. His shoulders tense up, the ropes of muscle there gone bowstring taut, and he heaves out a shuddering breath.   
“Fuck, _fuck,_ I have to—” he pulls out and almost loses his balance as he makes to stand, taking Stiles’s hand. 

He drags him up off the couch. “Get on your knees for me, darling. Be a good sport and stick out your tongue.” 

Stiles drops quicker than a dime. “Are you gonna cum for me?” Stiles asks, taking his thickness in his fist. He opens his pink mouth and lets the head of Klaus’ cock rest inside, curling his tongue around it and letting Klaus feel just how much he wants it.

Klaus takes him by his chestnut locks, not pulling them or using them to push his head forward, but clutching like a lifeline as Stiles runs his tongue expertly over it.  
“Fuck, Stiles, beautiful, I’m going to cum, please, I—” 

“Do it,” He says, dipping his tongue into his weeping slit, collecting the pre-cum there. “Come in my mouth, Klaus. I want it. Want to taste you.” 

“Oh fuck me, you’re such a naughty dirty little boy.” His grip on his hair tightens and then he stills. “Oh fuck… here it comes. This is bliss.”   
“FUCK!” Klaus comes, the wads of hot seed spurting out onto Stiles’s tongue and hitting the back of his throat. They both moan at the feeling of it, each for different reasons. When the pulsing finishes, Stiles opens his mouth to let him see it, returning the favor.  
Then purposefully he makes it disappear.

Klaus groans, pulling him back up so they’re eye to eye. “So good for me, darling. So good.”

He takes Stiles’s face in his hands, running his thumbs along the arches of his chiseled cheekbones.   
“You, my little dove, _will be the death of me;"_ he pants.   
  
Both men are wrecked. Klaus releases him, begrudgingly, and pulls his pants up with one hand. He flits around the room like a butterfly, looking for something. Stiles takes the time to recompose himself.  
“Aha!” Klaus brandishes a sharpie marker victoriously. Stiles notices for the first time as he catches a glimpse of himself in Klaus' mirror just how much he’d scratched him, and feels a rush at having been marked like that.   
Being Klaus’ wouldn't bother him in the slightest.

“Here,” he says, pulling off the cap with his teeth and spitting it out somewhere off to the side. Stiles laughs a little at his antics and thinks to himself, _wow, Stiles, you’re in deep._

He takes the marker and scrawls something out on Stiles’ arm in big, sweeping motions. It tickles slightly and he squirms. “Hold still!” Klaus scolds, playfully slapping his rear.  
Stiles stays obediently immobile and waits for him to finish writing. 

Klaus smiles when he finishes, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There. Now you have the means to contact me again, if you decide you want me. We’re here for a month, so…” 

His phone number is written across his arm in black, sprawling numbers. He smiles back at him, pleased, and says, “If _I_ decide that I want _you?_ What about the other way around?” 

Klaus steps into his personal space as easily as if he belonged there already, settling his hands on the curve of his biceps.  
“Darling,” he says, his voice low, eyes burnt-sugar deep in their admiration of him. “I will _always_ want you.”   
He bites his lip and looks him up and down. Stiles is sure he must be horribly dishevelled. His hair feels like it’s a mess, he knows Klaus has left bruises and scratches... Yet the look on his face isn’t one of disgust. Far from it.  
He looks like he wants to _eat him up_. 

“You should go,” Klaus breathes regretfully. “Or else I might try to keep you forever.”  
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Stiles laughs, but kisses him on the cheek anyway, making his way out of the dressing room once he’s sure he’s decent.

“I hate to see you go,” he calls as he steps through the door and into the larger backstage area. “Don’t hesitate to call me, darling. At least on my end, I would love to do this again.”

Stiles blows him a kiss, even though it feels kind of lame. Klaus darts his gaze from the floor back to Stiles, his cheeks a beautiful duky rose.  
“Goodnight, Stiles.”

Stiles is reeling once he exits. He’s sore in the most wonderful way, the gasps and moans Klaus sung into his ear still an echo in his mind.  
He finds Scott arguing with an usher.  
“No, I told you, lady, I’m not leaving until my friend gets back! I don’t understand what’s so difficult about that concept—”

Stiles rushes forward, calling his friend’s name. Scott turns and beams, darting an insulting look to the retreating usher.  
“Stiles? How did it go? Was it as hot as we knew it was gonna be?”   
Judging from his appearances, Scott would guess YES. 

“It went really well,” He says, unable to hold back his blush.  
“Stiles!” Scott squeals, pulling down his collar to reveal not one but two hickeys. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You _didn’t!_ You totally got laid, didn’t you?” 

Stiles shrugs, but again- throws him a wicked grin. “A gentleman never tells.” He lifts a finger in the gesture of asking for a second. Stiles extracts his phone and sends out a quick text to the number written on his arm, terrified it might get smudged.

_Thanks for a great night. Would love to see you again, Klaus. Call me._

The phone almost immediately buzzes with a reply:

_I can’t wait, darling. We’ll have even more fun the next time. I’ll have you up at my flat if you’d like. More privacy. Talk tomorrow . Be well until then, little dove ;)_

Stiles stares down at the message lit on his screen and wonders what (or who), exactly, he’s gotten himself into.  
Whatever this turns out to be, he knows he hasn’t felt this happy (and satisfied) in a very long time.  
“Come on,” Scott pats him on the back. “You look like you need a shower and a burger. You can stay at my house tonight- don’t even think you’re not giving me detes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might have one more chapter but for the moment I'm leaving it here. Hope you're doing well. 
> 
> Title from: “The most precious things in speech are pauses.”- Ralph Richardson


End file.
